


I Remember One Christmas Morning

by BlackandBlueMagpie



Series: You Wanna be Alive just to Watch the Bruises Heal [4]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, Family Christmas, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Multi, New Year's Eve, New Years, because, fun stuff like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackandBlueMagpie/pseuds/BlackandBlueMagpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Jehan have been at Les Amis for over a year now, and everyone's in the festive spirit for the holidays.<br/>Jehan's heading home, Grantaire's going to Enjolras's, Feuilly and Bahorel are continuing their Christmas tradition and there's a little surprise planned for New Years...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We better hold each other tight, You never know it might snow tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you do this every Christmas?" Courfeyrac asks. Jehan glances up at his boyfriend from where he's rolling out gingerbread dough.  
> "Yes?" Courfeyrac shakes his head, going back to where he's beating butter and sugar together for the cupcakes. "What? It's fun!"  
> Courfeyrac raises an eyebrow. He has flour on one cheek, stark white against his tanned skin. Some of it has made its way into his hair, giving him a greying streak. He'd managed to get butter everywhere using the hand held mixer, it's still all over his apron, so Jehan's relegated him to a whisk.

"Do you do this every Christmas?" Courfeyrac asks. Jehan glances up at his boyfriend from where he's rolling out gingerbread dough.  
"Yes?" Courfeyrac shakes his head, going back to where he's beating butter and sugar together for the cupcakes. "What? It's fun!"  
Courfeyrac raises an eyebrow. He has flour on one cheek, stark white against his tanned skin. Some of it has made its way into his hair, giving him a greying streak. He'd managed to get butter everywhere using the hand held mixer, it's still all over his apron, so Jehan's relegated him to a whisk.  
"Well if you weren't so messy your arm wouldn't be aching right now. Come on, baking's great, and then you get to eat it!"  
"If Bahorel doesn't get there first..." Courfeyrac grumbles.  
"That's why you put some aside. Cooks perks." Jehan tears off a small piece of the dough and holds it up for Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac's teeth graze over his skin as he takes it, looking out from behind his lashes.  
"You may be convincing me..." He murmurs and Jehan flushes red. At this Courfeyrac's face splits open in a wide grin as he laughs. "It's never going to stop being the most adorable thing when you do that."  
"I- Huh!" Jehan folds his arms. Courfeyrac gives him a quick kiss on the lips before returning to his mixing bowl. Jehan passes him across the eggs for him and sets to work cutting out shapes from the gingerbread.  
Jehan's been baking at Christmas since he can remember. The house was always filled with the smells of gingerbread and candied orange and cinnamon sticks in the week leading up to Christmas. His mother, when he was very young, usually kept him busy beating together the butter and sugar or whisking up the eggs for peppermint creams until he was a bit older and could actually reach the worktop when he went up to rolling out the dough. Icing was always the best bit, his mother dotting icing onto his nose and then the precision icing would end in a small battle.  
It's a tradition he and Grantaire continued, both when they were at home - where Grantaire always iced perfectly to begin with then gradually deteriorated - and when they moved away.  
Now he actually has people to bake for. It's Les Amis Christmas party tonight and Jehan quickly volunteered to make gingerbread for all of them to ice, and cupcakes because what is a party without them.  
He slips both trays into the oven and sets the timer.  
"Now we wait."  
Courfeyrac's fiddling with the CD player, cutting off Band-Aid halfway through. A new song starts - it has a lively beat. Courfeyrac bows and holds out a hand.  
"Would you like to dance?"  
"What?"  
"I uh..." He looks a little embarrassed as he straightens slightly. "I took some jive lessons..."  
"You did?" Jehan grins. "Well then I'd love to. Show me your moves."  
It takes a short while but they sync up about halfway through Gary Glitters ‘Another Rock and Roll Christmas’, kicking out their feet. Courfeyrac doesn't quite get the point right, and he seems unsure of what to do with his arms. But he doesn't crash into Jehan, and his movements, while not always fluid, show a natural talent for the dance. Jehan chassis under Courfeyrac's arm, and back out, before Courfeyrac pulls him into a kiss.  
"Very good." Jehan's laughing, wrapping his arms around Courfeyrac. "I am impressed. How long have you been practising that?"  
"A... Quite a few weeks now." There's a slight hint of red to Courfeyrac's cheeks, not just from the exertion of the dance.  
"You kept that quiet."  
"You liked it?" Courfeyrac chews on his lip. Jehan leans up to give him a kiss on the cheek.  
"I loved it, thank you."

Bahorel, who apparently has quite the liking for Christmas, commandeers the sound system little pub, it's been playing the same three CDs on loop since 7.30 and every time Gary Glitter comes on Jehan laughs a little bit. Grantaire raises an eyebrow every time, and Jehan tells him that Enjolras should try dance lesson which only makes him frown more.  
He'll explain later, but right now he wants it to be his own little thing.  
The array of gingerbread shapes is laid out in their little upstairs room where most of the group are. Bahorel's iced three, and Jehan thinks one might be a zombie Santa but he couldn't be sure. Feuilly is precise in his icing of tabby cats and fairy-tale dresses.  
Bossuet, Musichetta and Joly try icing each other as gingerbread men, with vary degrees of accuracy until Bossuet drops his Joly facedown onto the ground and spends the next half an hour apologising profusely.  
Various non-couples keep getting caught under the mistletoe, most people have kissed each other by the end of the evening.  
Bahorel and Feuilly get caught going to get drinks and a small 'ooo' resounds throughout the room. Bahorel glances up, shrugs and takes a rather confused looking Feuilly's face in his hands and plants a kiss firmly on his lips.  
Courfeyrac wolf whistles as they leave, with Bahorel shouting back a 'you know it's not the first time!', but he's the next to forget and Marius's blush remains for a good time after their meeting, probably not helped by Cosette's small nudges every now and then.  
Jehan and Courfeyrac walk back with their arms around each other, leaning heavily as they walk, giggling occasionally. Jehan thinks the last round was a bad idea for everyone except Grantaire, Bahorel and Combeferre, who all remained resolutely bordering on tipsy throughout the evening.  
"I haven't given you my present yet." Courfeyrac tells him, in that firm tone of someone who's just past drunk.  
"The dancing wasn't the present?"  
"Oh no. It's in my bag at your place but you're not allowed to open it until Christmas day." Jehan swears he won't, then pinkie promises upon Courfeyrac's insistence.  
They exchange their gifts, kisses and fall asleep curled around each other, legs tangled together. 

Jehan kisses Courfeyrac goodbye on the train station platform, it's the first Christmas he's spent at home since he moved to Paris and he'll admit that he's rather looking forward to it. He'll miss Grantaire's usual presence - his friend is spending this year at Enjolras's - but he spent yesterday with him, exchanging their gifts and watching terrible Christmas films.  
It feels like he's gone back in time, almost. He and his mother drink bucks fizz over a breakfast of pancakes, they open their stockings before they begin making lunch. Jehan opens Courfeyrac's present first. It's a small bound book, leather and embossed. It doesn't have a title, and he frowns at it, flicking it open to the first page. It soon becomes clear what the book is, every page is hand written, a different poem, sometimes a quote but always in the same, slightly messy hand. The final page is signed off with a small 'Merry Christmas, with all my love Courfeyrac'.  
"What is it dear?" His mother asks, and he realises he's smiling so wide his face hurts.  
"Nothing it's just... Perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Gary Glitter


	2. I See Your Smilin' Face, Like I've Never Seen Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mum, Dad, this is Grantaire."  
> Grantaire holds out a hand, putting on his best respectable grin. His father nods his hellos and Enjolras’s mother kisses Grantaire on both cheeks.  
> "It's a pleasure. Thank you for having me."  
> "Oh it's no problem at all!" His mother smiles widely, all too white teeth and red lipstick. "We've been told a lot about you!"  
> "All good I hope." Grantaire glances across to Enjolras with a wry smile. "Enjolras has told me a lot about you too."  
> "And we’re always willing to have people over Christmas, especially if it means we can meet Enjolras's friends."  
> Grantaire's smiles falters for a fraction of a second before he's beaming again,  
> "I'm sure."

"Mum, Dad, this is Grantaire."  
Grantaire holds out a hand, putting on his best respectable grin. His father nods his hellos and Enjolras’s mother kisses Grantaire on both cheeks.  
"It's a pleasure. Thank you for having me."  
"Oh it's no problem at all!" His mother smiles widely, all too white teeth and red lipstick. "We've been told a lot about you!"  
"All good I hope." Grantaire glances across to Enjolras with a wry smile. "Enjolras has told me a lot about you too."  
"And we’re always willing to have people over Christmas, especially if it means we can meet Enjolras's friends."  
Grantaire's smiles falters for a fraction of a second before he's beaming again,  
"I'm sure."  
"Come in any way! It's freezing out."  
They're ushered into the large hallway with its black and white tiled floor and it's perfectly laid out black and white photos. The stair case has been repainted, the landing still smells of it. Enjolras’s mother gestures to their respective rooms. Grantaire smiles politely and thanks her as she leaves. Enjolras places his bag on the bed, all neatly made up in cream and red - he'd had some say in its redecoration but other than that it hardly looks like he ever lived here.  
"We're friends?" Grantaire asks from behind him. He's leaning against the door, arms folded, eyebrow raised in that way he does when he's completely unimpressed. "I thought after a year we were beyond that."  
"I can explain-"  
"I'm sure you can." Grantaire says dryly. "Some warning would have been nice."  
"I didn't want you getting mad..."  
Grantaire looks almost like he wants to say something sarcastic but instead he sighs.  
"Enjolras you promised you were going to tell them a year ago. If you're not comfortable doing that then tell me. It's what I'm here for." Grantaire's eyes soften. "I know how hard it is and I'm your boyfriend, I'm supposed to support you and I want to, if you'll let me. You do it enough for me, I- I sometimes feel I'm not doing enough in return."  
"Grantaire you're doing plenty." Enjolras strides across and takes his hands, bringing them up between them. "And I want to tell them, I've been trying to because I'd love to share... This, what we have with them. I'm just terrible with things like this."  
"I know." Grantaire gives him a small smile. "All I want is to wake up next to you on Christmas morning, to give you my present and just... do the Christmas thing." He's blushing, pink flushing through his cheeks as he glances down at their hands, like he thinks it's a stupid idea. Enjolras can't help but let out a small giggle and Grantaire's head snaps up. "But I mean-"  
"No, no. I'm not- I'm not laughing at you. I'm sorry, it just sounds so lovely and then you looked so embarrassed." His cards his fingers through Grantaire's hair, his boyfriend leaning into his palm, smiling against the heel of his hand. "It's sweet."  
Grantaire raises one eye brow slightly, as if to say 'really?' and Enjolras smiles, leaning forward to almost press their lips together.  
"I love you." Grantaire closes the gap, with a needy little sound.  
"I love you too." He murmurs against Enjolras's lips.  
It's been a year, but Grantaire still doesn't quite believe it, Enjolras can tell, but he's getting there. Enjolras uses the words sparingly, whispering them at moments when he can't keep the emotion in anymore and Grantaire's face always lights up, his lips open and close again in an embarrassed press and his eyes get just a little brighter even as he looks down and out from behind his lashes.  
Enjolras presses just a little closer and Grantaire lets out a small noise, pressing his hands against Enjolras's chest.  
"What is it?" Enjolras asks quietly.  
"Door handle." Grantaire laughs, running his tongue over his lower lip as he shifts sideways. Enjolras watches him, the tilt of his lips - flushed pink - the shine of his eyes and their icy irises and dark lashes and the feel of his breathing and his hands pressed cold through his shirt.  
"Stay." He murmurs.  
"What?"  
"Stay. Here."  
"What about your parents?" Grantaire asks, but his eyes have brightened.  
"I'll tell Mum not to wake me and, well it'll be okay." He nods to himself. "But we'd better make your bed look slept in."  
Grantaire's lips turn up on the right in one of those smirks that leave Enjolras just a little bit breathless, and his hand comes up to graze over Enjolras's cheek and into his hair.  
"Well... I'm sure that can be arranged."

~~~

When Grantaire blinks awake the next morning it's to Enjolras's sleeping face. It's something that still surprises him, still gives him butterflies, warmth spreading from his heart as he watches.  
It's the only time Enjolras really relaxes, always thinking, always planning. His nose wrinkles occasionally, eyes squeezing shut, lips pouting. His fingers clutch loosely at the material of the pillow, his hair golden in this light, curls spreading around him like a halo.  
Grantaire has many times tried to capture the image, Enjolras with his mouth slightly slack, those full lips and those eyelashes skimming over his cheeks.  
It's an impossible feat, he's sure. Something that can only be witnessed but never captured.  
Enjolras blinks awake, it's always best not to wake him up, eyelids heavy, making his eyes look two shades darker than they actually are.  
A lazy smile spreads across his lips.  
"Merry Christmas."  
"Merry Christmas." Grantaire leans across to kiss him gently.  
"What time is it?"  
"It's 9.30, I’m amazed you're awake."  
"Speak for yourself." Enjolras raises an eyebrow. Grantaire shrugs. He's been sleeping better. It's a gradual process, a little at a time, but his nights spent lying awake are getting fewer. He curls up, knees brought near his chest in the position he can't quite get out of the habit of sleeping in. Enjolras usually wraps his arms around him, lips pressed against the back of his neck. Enjolras is a bit of an octopus when he sleeps - he likes holding hands, he likes draping his leg over Grantaire's - and Grantaire's only too happy to oblige.  
Enjolras stretches, rolling over to drape his arm over Grantaire, his head on Grantaire's chest.  
"Hello."  
"This was a wonderful idea." Enjolras smiles lazily. Grantaire plants a kiss on his forehead. "Before we get interrupted or something I have a present for you." He shifts back across the bed, trying to reach his bag that is really too far away to reach from the bed but somehow he manages it, whining as he stretches away and the duvet slips off. He curls back up next to Grantaire, snuggling down under the covers and holding up a small box.  
Grantaire holds it up to his ear, shaking the small parcel.  
"Just open it." Enjolras laughs.  
"Patience." Grantaire places a finger against his lips. The box is wrapped in red spotted paper, the corners stick out in squishy edges. Grantaire had been with Enjolras when he wrapped his presents, and it was a particularly pretty sight. He takes a moment to find the end of the sticky tape and begins to unwrap it as slowly as possible, watch as Enjolras's face becomes just a little more pained.  
"Can you physically unwrap that any slower?"  
"I'm trying."  
Enjolras buries his face in the pillows with a strangled noise.  
"Alright, alright." Grantaire laughs, tugging the lid off the striped gift box. Inside is filled with green tissue paper, almost obscuring the small glittering key.  
Grantaire's mouth drops open, then closes, then trembles somewhere between the two.  
Enjolras still has his face buried in the pillows, so Grantaire almost doesn't hear him when he mumbles.  
"You spend so much time at mine anyway."  
"This is-" Now Enjolras sits up, hair dishevelled and just short of scarlet.  
"Grantaire I know it's a big step but... Well you don't have to move in I just want you to have it." He's getting flustered, using his hands more than he usually does, which is saying something. "I just thought we were there, you know. And I've been thinking about it for a long time so... Well... Would you move in with me?"  
Grantaire carefully plucks the key from its rustly bed and squeezes it between his fingers and his palm.  
"I'd love to you idiot."  
"Really? I mean it-" Grantaire grabs Enjolras's face in his hands and kisses him firmly on his still moving lips, cutting off his words.  
"Let’s do it."  
~~~  
"Your father's making breakfast Enjolras sweetie." His mother's voice comes through the door, softly, at around 10.30 along with one of her almost pointless, designed not to disturb knocks. "I brought you some bucks fizz."  
"Oh thanks, you can come in." Enjolras calls back, before going back to his tie. The door swooshes as it opens.  
"Morning I- Oh!" His mother says as she notices Grantaire sitting cross legged on his bed.  
"Good morning Madame." Grantaire's doing his best behaviour voice, almost angelic, with a hint of a smile. Enjolras rolls his eyes. "I just popped in to wish your son a Merry Christmas, I was on my way down."  
“Right... Well I've brought you some too but-" Enjolras pulls the knot in his tie tight and turns to the pair. He was right, Grantaire is smiling like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. His mother's hair is pulled back in a bun, secured with a sparkly comb, her jumper is red and lightly sequined, her skirt looks more like it was designed for an office than Christmas day.  
"Thanks Mum." He smiles, taking the two glasses from her and kissing her on both cheeks. "We'll be down in a moment."  
"She seemed thrilled." Grantaire grins sarcastically as Enjolras hands him one of the champagne flutes.  
"She was surprised." Enjolras sits on the bed with a flop. "Cheers." Grantaire clinks their glasses together.  
"Expensive?"  
"Probably."  
"Tastes it."  
"You mean it tastes terrible?" Enjolras asks, placing his glass down on his bedside table.  
"That'd be right." Grantaire laughs, but he drinks it anyway. Enjolras watches as he swallows, Adams apple bobbing above the collar of his dark green shirt, it's the one  
Enjolras bought him, a purchase he's rather proud of given how well it fits and how well it suits Grantaire and damn he wishes he hadn't decided to wear it today.  
"We look like Christmas." He murmurs, holding out his wine coloured tie - a gift from Combeferre last year.  
"Well you knew what I was wearing." Grantaire leans in slightly. "Unless you'd prefer me to change?"  
"We need to go spend Christmas with my parents." Enjolras gives him a quick peck on the lips before he pushes himself up, retrieving his glass. "You ready?"  
~~~  
Grantaire does the washing up, chatting with Enjolras's mother as she puts away leftovers.  
He manages to tell her nothing much about himself. He says he sketches, that he's a member of Enjolras's political group, he mentions Jehan. Enjolras's mother nods along politely, asks a couple of questions but Grantaire wishes that Enjolras hadn't vanished off, Enjolras with his words who knows what to say - especially to his own mother.  
When it's mentioned that they'll be opening their presents soon and could someone please go find Enjolras Grantaire jumps at the chance, hurrying through the immaculate lounge with the tree that looks like it should be in a high end department store to the door.  
The entire lounge is strung with various bits of foliage, all red berries and spikey leaves that really hurt. There's only two people in the house but there's mistletoe above the door for god’s sake.  
He runs, rather hard, into a wine red tie, with a small oof.  
"Careful Grantaire, I know the floors are slippery but..." Enjolras laughs, resting his hands on Grantaire's shoulders to steady him.  
"I was just coming to get you..." Grantaire glances up to meet Enjolras's eyes and be rather less face first in his chest and his eye catches a hint of green. "U-Oh..."  
"Looks like someone got caught!" Comes the sing song voice. Enjolras flushes slightly, looking at both his parents over Grantaire's shoulder and Grantaire realises they followed him through into the lounge. Enjolras bends his head closer to Grantaire's.  
"You’re not actually going to do it?" His father asks.  
"I- Why shouldn't I?" He's frowning, there's that little look in his eye Grantaire recognises from his fights with people who don't share his views. Grantaire can see why when his father exclaims.  
"Because he's a man?"  
"So what?" Enjolras sets his jaw and Grantaire wants to tell him that he doesn't have to do this, it doesn't matter but he knows it won't work, and so he just clenches his fingers against the material of Enjolras's shirt.  
"S-So what?" His father sputters somewhere in the background. "Well because it's-"  
"You kiss Mum under the mistletoe at Christmas. Why shouldn't I be allowed to do the same with the person I love? Even if they're male?"  
"Excuse me young man?"  
"Okay this wasn't the best way to... To tell you." Enjolras laughs nervously and  
Grantaire can see his jaw shake and the look in his eyes falters slightly. Grantaire reaches to take his hand from where it's still on his shoulder, trying to reassure him just a little. "But I'm gay... And Grantaire is my boyfriend."  
"Then I should like to talk to him." Grantaire blinks, and Enjolras’s face changes, he goes completely white, mouth opening and closing.  
"Certainly Sir." Grantaire whirls around quickly, and he can feel Enjolras pull him back.  
He squeezes his finger gently. Enjolras’s father gestures to the door sharply, Grantaire follows him through into the kitchen, the door shutting behind him.  
"How dare you."  
"H-How dare I?" Grantaire stammers.  
"Yes." Enjolras's father takes a step toward him, red in the face. "How dare you come here, how dare you corrupt my son with your- Your filth."  
"My... I'm sorry Sir but Enjolras was gay long before I met him, he would be even if I never existed. It's not something you can cause, or change."  
"He might. Leave him."  
"Excuse me?" Grantaire blinks, rather aghast by this suggestion. "I'm not going to- For some reason, unknown to me, I make Enjolras happy. And I'm not going to leave him just because... I' not willing to hurt him like that and I hope you're not either. I'll leave here, if you want, to make your Christmas less... Awkward. But I'm not leaving your son.  
I'm sorry."  
~~~  
There's a small knock on the door of his hotel room. It's a tiny room, rather run down, but it's the best he could do over Christmas on such short notice. He opens to door to find Enjolras, who pulls him into a tight hug.  
"I'm sorry." He murmurs into Grantaire's hair.  
"I suppose I should've warned you about coming out at big family events..." Grantaire strokes his hair gently. "Come on, come in."  
Grantaire leads Enjolras in and pulls him onto his lap.  
"What happened?"  
"Mum cried, Dad paced quite a lot and did his stoic thing that he enjoys doing... They're going to try though, they are. It just might take a bit of time."  
Grantaire gives him a small smile, kissing him on the forehead.  
"I'm proud of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, part 2 :)  
> Lyrics come from What Christmas Means to Me by Stevie Wonder  
> Merry Christmas Everyone!


	3. I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It always amuses Feuilly, every year, how surprised people are that Bahorel likes Christmas as much as he does.  
> He's known Bahorel for over half their lives, and his reaction to the coming of December 1st hasn't changed at all.  
> At least one year he's been woken up or come home to find Bahorel sitting, knees pulled under his chin, with a child-like grin on his face.  
> 'It's midnight, Christmas has begun.'

It always amuses Feuilly, every year, how surprised people are that Bahorel likes Christmas as much as he does.  
He's known Bahorel for over half their lives, and his reaction to the coming of December 1st hasn't changed at all.  
At least one year he's been woken up or come home to find Bahorel sitting, knees pulled under his chin, with a child-like grin on his face.  
'It's midnight, Christmas has begun.'  
'It’s December first.' Feuilly yawns, rubbing his hand over his face.  
'Precisely. December, the month of Christmas.' Bahorel looks so pleased with himself.  
'You really are a five year old child aren't you?'  
He's not sure if he's glad he can't hear the Christmas music that he's pretty sure is continuous or not, but it is rather amusing to watch Bahorel dancing around to a song called 'Christmas wrapping' and watching his lips move in unheard words and the faces that he pulls - Feuilly knows the words off by heart by now even though he's never heard them.  
Courfeyrac's reaction in particular was pretty spectacular. Bahorel had walked in on their first December meeting in a full elf hat - with ears. Courfeyrac, in matching Santa hat, had stopped short of what he was saying to Combeferre, and wordlessly points, mouth hanging open.  
Quite remarkably, the pair then simultaneously began running toward each other, Bahorel sweeping Courfeyrac into a spinning hug as they met at the centre of the room. It's seconds before anyone can quite figure out what's going on enough to respond, and then everyone's shaking with laughter as Bahorel plants Courfeyrac back on the ground with a wide grin and some exclamation or other.  
This year they've gone down to Bahorel's parents later than usual, on account of Feuilly having to work on the 23rd and Bahorel refusing to go down on the train by himself - 'because who else will get me through the stations?'  
It is true, Feuilly supposes, Bahorel is terrible on trains or finding his way around anywhere in particular - Bahorel's last solo expedition on the Metro almost ended with Feuilly having to rescue him from not only the wrong stop but the wrong line altogether.  
So, after waving everyone off at the annual Les Amis Christmas party - Bahorel spent the week pestering Feuilly to help him make paper chains - and being caught under the mistletoe just a few too many times, they settle down on the train. Bahorel has earphones in, and he taps out the beat on the arm of his chair, smiling away. Feuilly sketches, taking advantage of the time he has almost to himself.  
Bahorel's parents meet them on the platform, there's hugs and kisses and scolds about something or other and Jacqui throws her arms around both of them in turn and Feuilly still can't quite believe she's 18 now.  
"Are you sure you can't stay until New Year?" Bahorel's mother is asking, and Feuilly watches her lips as he and Bahorel talk.  
"Courfeyrac's organising some big party and we can't let him down."  
"What about us?"  
"You've never seen Courfeyrac when he gets upset..." Feuilly snorts and everyone looks around to him. He raises a shoulder in a shrug and a bashful smile.  
There's a camp bed in Bahorel's bedroom Feuilly long since claimed for his own. It's propped up against the wall at the moment, allowing both of them space, well Bahorel space at least because someone hasn't wrapped up their presents yet and 'who leaves wrapping until Christmas Eve?'  
'Someone who's been very busy in their job.'  
'I still managed it.' Feuilly draws his feet up onto the bed as he watch Bahorel struggle with a piece of sello-tape. 'And I made all my gifts.'  
'Well you've had years of practise.' Bahorel is good at wrapping up presents, really he is, but it's still quite a spectacle to watch how the perfect finished product comes about. 'I wrapped up yours already.'  
'Well done, you get a gold star.'  
'Do you have to watch me? It's un-nerving.'  
'You ripped the paper.' Bahorel swore, discarding the piece of paper. 'It'll still fit Jacqui's.'  
'Your freaking artists eye.' Bahorel sized up a new piece of paper, scissors nearly gliding all the way across it. 'Mum was baking cookies or something for tomorrow. Maybe stuffing... She was cooking something if you want to help.'  
Feuilly decides not to comment on how different those two things are and how the hell have you gotten them mixed up in any way and pretends to look hurt.  
'Are you trying to get rid of me?'  
'It's baking, or watching me wrap presents.' Bahorel holds out his hands like a scale, pressing his lips together in a 'hmmmm' of decision.  
'I'll see if I can get you one fresh baked.' Feuilly says before he hops off of the bed and downstairs.  
The rest of the family, beside Bahorel and his mother, don't particularly enjoy cooking, Jacqui's far too much like her father in that respect, and so Feuilly finds the kitchen empty except the bustling figure of Bahorel's mother. She glances around with a wide smile and a hello. Feuilly mime mixing and shrugs in a 'can I help' and she looks at him like he's slightly mad as she nods.  
It's a mixture of everything. There's stuff for tomorrows lunch, there's flour on the work surface and a freshly cooked yule log waiting to be rolled. Bahorel's mother is nothing if not thorough about these things, and even with their large appetites everyone's struggling by the end of the day.  
"Get started with that." She tells him, gesturing to what he thinks is supposed to be becoming Gingerbread men.  
By the time he returns upstairs, with a couple of slightly melted gingerbread men on a plate, Bahorel is sitting triumphantly in the middle of a small pile of presents and paper. He has sticky tape on his arm and glitter on his jeans and Feuilly can't help but smile.  
'You're ridiculous.'

~~~

He wakes up to someone shaking him. He groans, eyes opening barely a millimetre.   
"Feuilly, Feuilly. Feuilly." Bahorel's lips move to form his name. He feels the sigh escape his lips, Bahorel takes it as a question. 'It's Christmas.'  
'I know.' Feuilly closes his eyes. 'It's also dark, what time even is it?' A pause. 'And if you say any when before 7 I'm going to kill you, I'm on holiday.'  
'8?' Bahorel tries.  
Feuilly ponders it a moment.  
'Still might kill you.'   
'Presents, downstairs. Come on everyone else will be up soon...'  
'I wonder why.' Feuilly rolled over, pulling the blanket back up around his chin. He lay there for a few minutes, almost painfully aware of Bahorel sitting behind him and how awake he was now and how impossible this was going to be.  
'Fuck you.' He signed as he rolled back over onto his back. 'I can't get back to sleep.' Bahorel's face was nothing if not triumphant. 'Your present to me better be a decent coffee.'  
'Merry Christmas.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so a little late... But still I got it done.  
> Hope New year's going well for you all


	4. Here we are, Me and You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joly's hands won't stop shaking. His foot twitches against the floor from his seat at the corner of the little party they've organised.   
> "Joly!" Grantaire swings around the chair next to him before plonking himself down. "You seem rather quiet this evening, how you doing?"  
> "I'm- I'm alright."  
> "If I didn't know better I'd say you were nervous - not looking forward to the New Year? Come on it's a new start! New goals, new-"  
> "Grantaire. I'm fine, I just... I'm going to propose."

Joly's hands won't stop shaking. His foot twitches against the floor from his seat at the corner of the little party they've organised.   
Their little group of friends are spread throughout the room they've hired and are spilling out into the garden. It's a nice place, with a high ceiling and moulded features and pastel coloured wallpaper. The lights are dim, a small disco ball dancing like rain across the walls. There are tables in one corner, with somewhat vintage chairs and a little buffet that hardly anyone's touched - bar the crisps of course. Along the wall is a hole in the wall style bar, in the opposite corner the music and then the big double doors opening out onto the courtyard garden.   
Joly cups his gin and tonic in one hand, other drawing up to his chest. He can feel his heart almost fluttering beneath his ribs.  
"Joly!" Grantaire swings around the chair next to him before plonking himself down. "You seem rather quiet this evening, how you doing?"  
"I'm- I'm alright."  
"If I didn't know better I'd say you were nervous - not looking forward to the New Year? Come on it's a new start! New goals, new-"  
"Grantaire." Joly cuts him off and Grantaire's mouth shuts with the sound of teeth clanking together. "I'm fine, I just..." He taps his fingers against his lip. He and Grantaire have become closer over the last year. Grantaire's friend's with Bossuet first and foremost, and so he's often over even without Joly's regular check-ups since he found out. They chat a lot, they have a lot in common they've discovered, and Grantaire has a contagious laugh and is more understanding than Joly gave him credit for at first.   
"You want another drink?" Grantaire gestures to his glass.   
"Just one." Joly agrees and watches Grantaire's retreating figure, he stops halfway through as Enjolras wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him in with a grin and a whisper in his ear.   
"You seem to be getting on well." He comments as Grantaire returns and Grantaire glances over his shoulder at his boyfriend.   
"Keep a secret?"  
"Course."  
"Enjolras asked me to move in."  
"That's great! Congratulations. One question." Grantaire tilts his head to one side, sipping his drink. "Was this before or after you got chucked out?"  
"Heard about that huh?" Joly shrugs. "I'm trying to forget anything happened Christmas day past 10.30am. It was a good morning, and I'm proud of him but still, it wasn't a nice way for him to spend Christmas."   
Joly nods his agreement, doesn't comment on the fact of Grantaire's Christmas also being ruined and murmurs a thanks for the new drink. Grantaire usually covers up pretty well, but you notice things that he thinks he's hiding. You never mention them, but you act on them, learn what to say, what not to say, when to say things, when to leave them be.  
Joly sighs.  
"Can you keep a secret?"  
"Course I can." Joly nods slowly, pulling his lip back between his teeth.   
"Let’s go outside a moment, it's really... Loud in here." He raises a hand to his ears in a gesture. Grantaire offers up a hand and pulls him up. They walk down a small paved path, past the smokers outside and a few sitting on the edge of the fountain.   
"What's up my friend? You do seem a little het up."   
Joly presses his hand to his lips, looking back across to the building and its lights and music.   
"I'm going to propose."  
"To Bossuet and Musichetta?"  
"U-Yeah..." He breathes and it's shaky. "I know we can't actually get married but it's a step and it's a step I'd like to take you know?"  
"That's actually pretty damn sweet." Grantaire grinned. "Why are you so worried?"  
"Why'd you think?"   
"Well..." Grantaire raises one shoulder. "I can understand why you'd be nervous, it's a big thing but come on. Have you seen you guys? You're so perfect for each other, you still look at each other like it's the first time, like you're falling in love all over again. It's amazing." Grantaire smiles and sips his drink. "What're you going to say?"  
"I'd worked something out... I- Could you listen to it for me? You know, in case it sounds utterly ridiculous." Grantaire raises an eyebrow like he's talking nonsense. "Please? Come on, it'd make me feel better and I trust you."  
There's a small spark of something in Grantaire's eyes. It's something akin to happiness, only for a moment, before his lazy smile spreads across his face.   
"It'll be great, fire away."   
Joly takes a deep breath, lets it out in a sigh and then begins. It's a short little speech, but he worked on it for hours during his breaks. He wrote it, re wrote it, went over it so many times and then forgot those perfect words before he could write them down. He's still not convinced it's perfect, like they deserve, but he can't get the words down from his head.   
He doesn't dare look at Grantaire as he finishes, instead staring at his feet and his hands as they twist.   
"I'd marry you." Grantaire says. "Hell, I'd leave Enjolras right now and marry you for that speech."  
"You think it was good?"  
"Did you not hear yourself? Even without the setting that was some of the most romantic... Jesus..." Grantaire laughs. "Can you write my speech if I ever propose to Enjolras?"   
"You're thinking about that?"  
"Christ Jolllly we've only just moved in with each other, on thing at a time. You however, you go get them and I'll be the first to buy you a congratulatory drink."  
"Remember you've got our check-up on the 5th."  
"When have I forgotten Joly?"  
~~~  
He's still fretting about the timings. Should he start the New Year engaged? Get engaged on the stroke of midnight? Start early in case he hasn't left enough time even though he knows how long his little speech is down to the second. Everyone's beginning to gather, glancing at their watches as they hurry to find significant others or close friends.   
Musichetta's sitting on the bench next to him, Bossuet between them on the actual seat, his head resting on Joly's knee.   
Somewhere in the background someone shouts out '1 minute to go!' - Joly suspects Courfeyrac. Joly breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth and pushes himself up off the bench, stepping down from the seat.  
"Where are you going Joly?" Musichetta asks, and even through his nerves he can't help but smile at the way her accent rolls his name, slightly husky with a roll on the l. "You're going to miss the countdown."  
"I'm not- I'm just..." He runs a hand through his hair, swallows, then turns quickly to face them before his nerve fails him. "L'Aigle, Musichetta, we've been together over 4 years now and I think we're- we're ready to take the next step. I know it's not something we can actually do but you both mean so much to me. Since I met you I knew I wanted to spend my life with you and I never thought I'd be lucky enough to find two people that make me so happy and put up with me and... You've made me so much more than I ever thought I'd be. I just want to spend forever with you." He’s vaguely aware of people moving around them, of shouts and cheers but all he can hear is his own heartbeat and his breathing and Musichetta and L'Aigle are frowning at him. He suddenly realises he should be kneel and does so, a little bit too hard. "S-So... Will you marry me?"  
Musichetta's mouth drops open in a small 'o' and L'Aigle's eyes widen slightly. Behind him a loud bang makes him jump and he almost drops the box that he's trying to get open.  
"Are you proposing?" Musichetta asks, but there's a smile playing at her lips and Joly relaxes slightly.  
"Generally I don't do this just for the hell of it..."   
"Oh my God..." She covers her mouth with her hand, eyes sparking in a smile Joly just wants to save in his memory.   
"My knee kind of... I landed heavily..."   
L'Aigle holds out a hand and takes Joly's in his own, kissing his knuckles.  
"Of course."  
"Yes Joly, Oh my God yes!"  
Joly's lips part in a wide grin and feels like he might cry at the same time as L'Aigle pulls him up and into a long kiss, before Musichetta kisses him on both cheeks before kissing him full on the lips.   
People begin drifting across, with 'happy new years' and the like, and then Grantaire comes across with a confused Enjolras in tow, he's grinning and practically vibrating in excitement.  
"Are congratulations in order?"   
"Congratulations?" Enjolras echoes, frowning. Joly opens his mouth to explain but Musichetta gets there first, holding out her hand.  
"We're engaged!"  
"You're- Oh wow! Congratulations!" Enjolras breaks into a grin, surging forward to hug them all in turn. "Should I get the others?"  
"Get champagne too." Grantaire tells him.   
"I thought you were buying me first drink." Joly raises an eyebrow as Enjolras hurries off, gesturing toward them as he goes and leaving a trail of intrigued faces in his wake. Grantaire shrugs.  
"I'll pay him back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!   
> There's still a little bit before this but I've been really busy, hopefully I'll get it finished soon  
> Lyrics from Happy New Year by Abba

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics from Greg Lake's I Believe in Father Christmas  
> This takes place one year after the story as it stands, so 2005 :)  
> This is rather late, but I've ended up being a little busy... More to come!


End file.
